


Separation Anxiety

by LeapAngstily



Series: I'll Follow You (always a step behind) [1]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: Bonbon loves Pazzolivo, Exhibitionism, Explicit Sexual Content, Gratuitous misuse of pool tables, M/M, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Threesome - M/M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-04
Updated: 2014-02-04
Packaged: 2018-01-11 05:23:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1169187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeapAngstily/pseuds/LeapAngstily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Closing doors is overrated, Riccardo and Giampaolo do not take well to being separated, and Daniele should stop making promises he cannot keep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Separation Anxiety

**Author's Note:**

> Written because Bonbon obviously loves Pazzolivo and vice versa. Please blame my beloved enablers on Tumblr!

Milanello at night: when the staff has gone home and the lights in the corridors are dimmed to the bare minimum. During his years in the club Daniele has come to appreciate the almost creepy silence that falls in the training centre on the pre-match nights.  
  
Now that silence feels more oppressing than comfortable though, as he walks through the empty hallways in search of his missing roommate.  
  
He had assumed Giampaolo had barricaded himself into Riccardo and Ignazio’s room, trying to bribe the fullback into switching rooms for the night without letting their coach know. At least that is what they had unsuccessfully attempted with Daniele earlier the same day.  
  
However, the room had been empty bar Ignazio, who had merely shrugged at Daniele’s questions before going back to reading a bedtime story to his son over the phone. Daniele took it as a sign that their captain and poacher were somewhere else, sulking over the unfairness of their lives.  
  
Daniele does not necessarily agree with Clarence’s decision to separate Riccardo and Giampaolo.  
  
The manager’s reasoning that they would merely keep each other awake half the night if they were sharing a room is a sound one. However, so far the decision seems to have backfired, as Riccardo and Giampaolo have started spending their evenings in other corners of Milanello, more often than not keeping their roommates up as well.  
  
Daniele had promised Clarence he would make sure Giampaolo would be in bed before midnight –with Mario suspended he is the only available striker in tomorrow’s game, after all – which is exactly why he is now wandering the deserted corridors.  
  
He is about to give up when he hears muffled voices from the billiards room. He has checked the room once already, but he would not put it past his friends to follow his tracks and slip into the room once the route is clear.  
  
Sneaky little bastards, Daniele cannot help but laugh internally. He feels like he is babysitting six-year-olds.  
  
The door is slightly ajar and Daniele is about to walk in when he hears a strangled moan followed by a hushed “Stop it! Someone might come in!”  
  
He recognizes Riccardo’s voice right away. However, it is not the words but the tone that makes him stop on his tracks. He has never heard their captain like this: he sounds breathless, but not winded in the same way one would be after hard exercise.  
  
“No one’s here. Everyone’s asleep, remember?”  
  
Giampaolo’s retort is followed by another muffled moan from Riccardo. Daniele knows he should either interrupt them right away or go back to his room and leave them be. Anything but what he is doing now: standing behind the door, eavesdropping like a dirty stalker.  
  
But Riccardo’s soft noises keep Daniele glued to his spot as his brain catalogues all the new sounds coming from the room: moans, gasps, and  _was that a whimper?_  
  
Daniele tries to reason with himself: he must be imagining things, it cannot be what he thinks it is, they would never do something like that in the middle of the training facilities. Riccardo and Giampaolo are close, for sure, but not that close, right? Right?  
  
A whine and a gasped  _“Please”_  embarrassingly go straight to his crotch. He must see what is happening in there, just a little peek and he can go back to bed with his sanity intact. Maybe take a cold shower before that.  
  
He opens the door just enough to slip in, careful not to make noise as he enters. The folding screen separating the entrance and the pool tables blocks the view from the dimly lit room, but Daniele can still see enough from the cracks between the panels.  
  
What he sees momentarily robs him of all conscious thought, and he needs to lift a hand against his mouth to stop himself from uttering the shocked noise rising from his throat.  
  
Riccardo is half-lying on the pool table, leaning back against his elbows, back arched and his shirt pulled up to his chest, legs spread to allow Giampaolo to lean flush against him. His head is thrown back, offering his long neck for his partner who is nibbling and sucking his pulse point eagerly, urging new sounds from the moist lips.  
  
One of Giampaolo’s hands is on Riccardo’s chest, teasing his left nipple, while the other is gripping his hip, pulling their groins even closer together. His hips are moving slowly, almost an unconscious movement, as he rubs his erection against Riccardo’s through the thin material of their sweatpants.  
  
All this should not be arousing to Daniele: during his 32 years of age, he has never been attracted to another man, least of all to his teammates.  
  
But his body has decided at that precise moment not to agree with his mind. Every noise Riccardo makes and every look he sneaks past the screen make his cock grow a bit harder, until his pants feel uncomfortably tight and his breath is turning erratic.  
  
Daniele silently curses every possible deity he can think of when Giampaolo slips his hands under the waistband of Riccardo’s sweatpants and pulls them down to his thighs and then completely off along with his underwear.  
  
Riccardo leans his back against the pool table with a content sigh, arching his back even further, unashamedly pushing his hips towards Giampaolo’s hands. His erection is resting against his belly, the tip glistening with precome even in the low lighting.  
  
Daniele’s perfectly straight brain refuses to call him beautiful, while his erection twitches with interest at the sight that might be the most erotic one he has ever witnessed.  
  
Giampaolo has moved his lips from Riccardo’s neck down to his chest, licking his way down his torso, kissing his navel playfully before finally reaching the awaiting cock. He ghosts his lips over the tip, not touching before he gains another whine and a buck of hips from Riccardo.  
  
The strangled sound Riccardo lets out when Giampaolo finally licks the underside of his cock makes Daniele’s breath hitch. His hand moves to grab his erection over the layers of clothing on its own accord. He is painfully hard, and he is afraid he might come into his pants if his captain keeps making those noises.  
  
He has made his mind: he needs to leave now, before he is caught. One last look is all he needs, and then he can get out and go jerk off in the privacy of his own room while thinking about his beautiful wife and definitely not his friends fucking on the pool table where anyone could see them.  
  
Blue eyes meet Daniele’s and suddenly he is stuck in place again. Riccardo does not look disgusted, not even particularly shocked – instead he seems curious, an almost welcoming smile gracing his lips, before his eyes snap shut and he moans again as Giampaolo sucks on the tip of his cock.  
  
Daniele could almost swear the moaning is getting louder. Almost like Riccardo was putting on a show for him. The blue eyes behind the fluttering eyelashes stay focused on him, and Daniele cannot even think of looking away anymore.  
  
He is rubbing his cock through his pants, just hard enough to ease the painful throbbing but careful not to push himself over the edge. Riccardo knows he is here, so he will have to answer for his spying regardless the outcome.  
  
Riccardo is jerking his hips upwards, trying to push himself into Giampaolo’s mouth, but the striker keeps a firm hold of his thighs, pressing him down against the table as he savours the whole length: sucking and kissing, his tongue darting out to taste the precome every now and then.  
  
What Daniele would give to be in the receiving end of that treatment? Or giving: to be the one who pulls those sounds from Riccardo’s lips, who makes him shake with arousal and lose his cool.  
  
Riccardo pulls on Giampaolo’s hair gently to make him stop. He sits up with some difficulty, a hand gripping Giampaolo’s shirt, and he pulls his lover into a long kiss. He wraps his legs around Giampaolo’s hips, urges him closer, slips his hand between their bodies to tease his cock.  
  
“I think Daniele might appreciate a closer look.”  
  
The words spoken against Giampaolo’s lips are breathy, but still loud enough that Daniele can hear them without any problem.  
  
He is holding his breath, waiting for Giampaolo’s reaction. He pulls his hand away from his crotch, tries to fix his clothes to hide the bulge in his pants. Unsuccessfully.  
  
Riccardo knows he has been there all along, and Daniele has a nagging suspicion that so does Giampaolo when he looks in his direction and asks roughly, “You coming or what?”  
  
He slowly walks away from the entrance into full view, trying to keep his eyes averted from Riccardo’s almost naked body, from his hands between their bodies still stroking Giampaolo’s cock, from Giampaolo’s firm hold on Riccardo’s buttocks.  
  
He is failing terribly, and Riccardo’s soft laughter against Giampaolo’s neck is not helping at all. How can everything his captain does suddenly seem like an innuendo? Daniele’s cock twitches painfully in agreement.  
  
Giampaolo is giving him a once-over, his eyes lingering on his crotch a moment longer than necessary before making eye contact, “No touching, not even yourself. You wanna watch, you better make sure you really  _pay attention_.”  
  
Riccardo is making a face, mouthing  _“Harsh”_  to Daniele while still snuggling against Giampaolo’s chest without a complaint. From the gleeful glint in his eyes Daniele could hazard a guess that the situation is going exactly to his liking.  
  
Daniele is not quite sure he will be able to keep himself from touching himself, his aching cock practically begging for release – he has grown even harder if possible under Giampaolo’s scrutinizing look.  
  
He nods his agreement anyways, because he is not the one in control here: he either agrees or leaves, and leaving in just not an option anymore.  
  
Giampaolo offers him a crooked smile before pulling Riccardo into another kiss, whispering something that might have been  _“You kinky bastard”_  against his lips. Riccardo hums his agreement into the kiss.  
  
Daniele balls his fists at his sides, doing his best to ignore the way his cock rubs against his too tight boxers, as Giampaolo pushes Riccardo down, his back against the tabletop once more, and urges him to spread his legs even wider.  
  
Riccardo keeps looking at Daniele. He has brought his hand to his mouth, and the way his tongue keeps darting out to lick his fingers one by one is distracting Daniele from what Giampaolo is doing until an appreciative moan slips out from those enticing lips.  
  
Daniele reluctantly drags his gaze away from his captain’s face to see what is causing him to react like that.  
  
Giampaolo has two fingers pushed inside Riccardo – the vial of lubricant thrown carelessly to the same pile with Riccardo’s pants – and he is moving his hand in circular motions, his other hand rubbing Riccardo’s erection in soothing manner.  
  
Except there is no sign of discomfort in Riccardo’s body, he is like a picture of fluid relaxation, pushing against the intruding fingers like they were a part of him. It makes Daniele wonder how often they really do this – if this is why they keep each other awake at nights – and the thought sends another spark of arousal to his groin.  
  
He moves closer as Giampaolo pulls his fingers out and picks up the lube again, almost sick curiosity taking a hold of him. Giampaolo pushes his pants down to his thighs, coats his erection with the clear lotion and positions himself against Riccardo’s entrance.  
  
How could he possibly fit in after only a moment’s preparation? What if he hurts Riccardo when they have a match tomorrow?  
  
But despite Daniele’s doubts, Giampaolo pushes his cock in slowly but surely, a muffled sob and a whimper only signs that Riccardo is experiencing any kind of pain, and even then his legs wound themselves around Giampaolo’s hips to pull him in closer.  
  
“Yes,” he gasps softly when Giampaolo jerks his hips back and pushes in faster. His eyes are half-closed, his attention now fully on his lover, Daniele’s presence all but forgot.  
  
After a few thrusts his back arches involuntarily and his earlier gasps turn into a guttural moan. He is desperately reaching his hand toward Giampaolo, grasping his hand as soon as he finds it, clinging to the contact like it was the only thing keeping him from collapsing into his ecstasy.  
  
Daniele’s breath is coming out in uneven puffs. His legs are shaking, just barely keeping him upright, his erection throbbing with the need for release. He would come into his pants the moment he touched his cock, which is the only reason he keeps following Giampaolo’s orders.  
  
He cannot lose a second of this.  
  
Giampaolo picks up his pace, violently pounding into Riccardo’s willing body, his one hand intertwined with Riccardo’s, the other stroking his lover’s cock in rhythm with his thrusts.  
  
Riccardo is the first to come with a wordless sound that is something between a moan and a suppressed sob, his body shaking almost uncontrollably. His legs are pulling Giampaolo all the way in and keeping him there until he also comes with a breathless groan, collapsing against Riccardo’s chest.  
  
Daniele is the only one left unsatisfied. He cannot pull his eyes away from the sight in front of him: an example of post-coital bliss, two men entangled in each other, slowly moving hands mapping each other’s bodies in soft caresses.  
  
He reaches out for his waistband, his own erection aching to be touched.  
  
“Don’t,” Riccardo whispers a soft command, barely loud enough to hear but still enough to stop his hand from moving. At that moment Daniele remembers why Riccardo was chosen as the next captain so soon after his arrival.  
  
Giampaolo pulls out of Riccardo reluctantly – his cum dripping down Riccardo’s thighs – and allows the captain to get up from the pool table.  
  
“You look like you need help, Daniele,” Riccardo drawls as he closes the remaining distance between them, “You’ve been so patient with us.”  
  
The last words are spoken only an inch away from his lips, Riccardo’s breath hot on his face.  
  
Daniele is about to lean in and close the final gap, but then Riccardo drops to his knees in front of him, nuzzling his crotch playfully before pulling his pants down low enough to release his straining erection.  
  
“He’s bigger than you,” Riccardo comments to Giampaolo who has come to stand next to Daniele, his adoring eyes never leaving the man on the floor.  
  
“Optical illusion,” Giampaolo grins in response, but Daniele is too far gone to concentrate on their bickering as Riccardo leans in to suck on the tip of his cock.  
  
He has been sucked off before, of course he has, but never like this, not after such a long and painful wait. At that moment he has never wanted anyone as much as he wants Riccardo.  
  
Giampaolo reaches out for Riccardo’s hair, pushing it off his face, and Daniele cannot look away: Riccardo’s lips are pink and moist, his cheeks pulled in as he sucks on Daniele’s cock, his blue eyes and long eyelashes mesmerizingly beautiful when he looks up at them.  
  
Daniele lasts merely seconds before he is spilling his seed into Riccardo’s mouth, almost sobbing as the long-awaited release washes over him.  
  
Giampaolo wraps his arm securely around Daniele’s waist, letting him sag against his shoulder when his legs give out under him. With his other hand he pulls Riccardo up and into another kiss.  
  
Daniele hides a groan against Giampaolo’s shirt when a thread of his own cum slips out of Riccardo’s mouth, his brain finally catching up with his actions. To think he was supposed to drag Giampaolo  _away_  from Riccardo.  
  
Riccardo and Giampaolo follow Daniele back to his room, and he is too exhausted to complain, too focused on his sudden sexual identity crisis at the ripe age of 32.  
  
The couple scuffles in Giampaolo’s bed for a while longer, but soon enough they settle down and fall asleep, Riccardo’s head pillowed on Giampaolo’s chest.  
  
The content smile on Riccardo’s face as he snuggles closer to his lover’s warmth is more than enough for Daniele to confirm that separation is not the correct answer when it comes to these two.  
  
As it turns out, it is Daniele who ends up staying awake half the night. Clarence is not pleased.

**Author's Note:**

> Did I just blame Bonbon’s recent shitty defending on too much Pazzolivo sexing? You bet I did!
> 
> Honeys, remember that safe sex is good and unprotected penetration should only be practiced with a trustworthy, monogamous, long term partner after all the necessary tests! And yes, I consider Pazzolivo very much monogamous, at least when it comes to buttsex.


End file.
